


Deep Into Darkness

by Hypocorismm



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cora's backstory; Kayti edition, Depressed Stiles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Stiles dealing with his darkness, cora being awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:12:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypocorismm/pseuds/Hypocorismm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles watches his friends die every time he closes his eyes. The pack grow concerned when he stops being himself and call Derek for help.</p><p>It's Cora that shows up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deep Into Darkness

**“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.” -Edgar Allan Poe**

Why was everyone so damn chipper all the time? That’s the thought on Stiles’ mind as he moved throughout his day. How could they smile, laugh, joke, live so easily when there were horrors around them all? How could they not see? It was all around them, bearing down on them, threatening to snatch them away. But they never saw it, they never heard it, and they never felt it.

The darkness, the one around his heart, weighed him down. It snatched at his laugh, grabbed at his smiles, squeezed his lungs. He didn’t want to live, not this way. This wasn’t living. This was surviving, barely and he wasn’t sure he wanted to do that anymore, either.

Then, he started to see them. Scott getting ripped apart by Deucalion, the Sheriff ritually sacrificed below the Nemeton, Lydia screaming as a werewolf drives his claws through her small chest, Isaac cowering away from his father as he loads a shotgun full of wolfsbane pellets, Derek getting caught in the Hale fire and burning to death with his family, Allison bravely fighting her own darkness just to be swallowed whole by a great shadowy figure. Sometimes, even the twins made their way into his waking nightmares, although not as frequently. He saw Melissa, Cora, Peter, Chris, Danny, _Jackson_ on occasion. He saw them all die horrifically, painfully, torturously. He saw them every time he lay down to sleep, and in his dreams.

He stopped sleeping.

He stopped going to lacrosse practice, stopped doing his homework, stopped hanging out with the pack, stopped eating except when completely necessary or forced, stopped leaving his room except for school.

He didn’t care.

What was the point in trying to act normal when he just wanted to die every minute of the day?

“Stiles, do you want dinner? I made your favorite,” the Sheriff asked, peaking into Stiles’ room one night. “Grilled cheese and chicken noodle soup.”

“I’m not hungry,” Stiles said, staring blankly at the ceiling.  He stared often, without seeing most of the time. He just stared because this was his life, and he wasn’t going to fight it anymore. If the darkness wanted him, it could have him. He didn’t care.

“Okay, well,” the Sheriff sighed. “It’ll be in the fridge if you get hungry.”

Stiles grunted in reply, not moving from his position on the bed.

He didn’t care.

It got worse, no matter how much he tried to stop it. It wasn’t just when he tried to sleep, it was every moment of the day, every time he blinked, every time his thoughts wandered, every time he became unfocused. He started to see himself killing them, watching as the light left their eyes. Those were the worst. He tucked himself into the corner of his room, on the floor with his arms wrapped around his knees. He kept the door locked, and the window shut. He drew the shades down and tucked the hard back of his desk chair underneath his door handle. He didn’t want anyone to come in, just in case he went through with his visions.

 _They’re just dreams_ , Claudia would’ve said. _A dream can’t hurt you unless you give it power, Stiles. So the next time you have a bad dream, I want you to look whatever scares you in the eyes and tell it that you’re not afraid._

What if I am, Stiles would’ve asked. What if I’m really scared, Mommy?

 _They don’t know that. You have to believe that they can’t hurt you, that they can’t get you, and say I’m not afraid._ That’s what she would’ve said.

Stiles missed his mother, more than anything in the world. She would’ve known how to fix him, how to drive away the darkness, and chase away the demons that haunted him. Figures, he thought one afternoon, that the one person in the world that could save him from this was dead. That’s the darkness, he thought a moment later.

Such is life.

 

-&-

 

The pack was at their wits end, staring up the stairs in the Stilinski home. Stiles didn’t talk to any of them, didn’t go to school, didn’t even leave his room except for food when he felt like eating, which was a rare occurrence nowadays, and to use the bathroom. Stiles wasn’t Stiles, and they didn’t know how to help.

Deaton said that Stiles had to work through is on his own, fight his own demons.

They didn’t like that.

Pack shouldn’t be alone.

Pack shouldn’t fight alone.

Scott looked at his pack and the darkness around his heart didn’t seem so awful. Allison said Isaac made her own darkness shrink, even if it tried to use him to drive her mad.

But Stiles, he didn’t _talk_ about it. He kept it to himself, and tried to act strong.

They agreed they needed someone else to come in, step in and shake Stiles out of this. They called Derek.

“Listen, Stiles isn’t doing so great. He’s drowning in his darkness, and no one can snap him out of it,” Scott explained.

“How am I supposed to help, Scott? The kid doesn’t even like me.”

“That’s not true, and you know it. Just, I don’t know what you can do. But can you come _try_ because he won’t open his door for any of us? He’s shut himself in his room and he’s so lethargic and he’s not himself.”

“Scott,” Derek sighed. “I can’t just pick us up for Stiles. I’m sorry.”

Scott hung up before he started shouting, angry that Derek wouldn’t come back and help. He paced the bottom floor of the Stilinski home, the pack tracking him with their eyes.

A day later, Scott sat at the bottom of the steps leading up to Stiles’ room when the door opened and Cora swept in.

“Cora?”

“He’s in his room?” she asked.

“Who?”

“Don’t be stupid, Scott.” She rolled her eyes at him.

“Yeah, Stiles is in his room, but he’s not letting anyone in.”

“I know, I heard you telling Derek. He’s an ass,” Cora said taking the stairs.

“He’s not letting anyone in,” Scott called after her.

“Luckily I have super strength and he has no other choice,” she replied quietly. She found his door, remembering how they’d tried to tell his father about werewolves in his room, and how she’d passed out because she wasn’t healing.

She tried the door handle but it was locked. She looked around and slammed the heel of her palm against the wood beside the doorknob. It splintered and she pushed open the door slowly. The blinds were down, curtains shielding the room from any light, the light off. She turned the light on and looked around, finding Stiles curled into himself on the floor in the corner.

“Stiles?” she called uncertainly. His head snapped up and he started to visibly panic, tears flooding his eyes.

“I- I- you can’t be here. You’ll die. Everyone, everyone dies. Everyone.”

She edged closer and he flung his hands up like he was trying to push her away. She sank to her knees before him as his breathing grew harsh and labored.

“Nononononononononononononononononononononononononono,” he moaned. “You can’t be here. You can’t. I’ll hurt you, I hurt everyone.”

“Stiles,” she said quietly, inching closer. He shook his head.

“I- I- I- I- I can’t- I can’t see p-p-p-past the death, a-an-an-and the darkness. I don’t- I don’t know wh-what to do. I see them die ev-every-every time. You all, you die. Every time I t-t-t-t-t-try to sleep, close my eyes, lose f-focus. I don’t- I don’t know how to be happy anymore. I can’t- I can’t,” he gasped. “I can’t breathe.”

“Give me your hands,” she ordered quietly. He gave her his hands, and she squeezed them before pressing one to her chest. “Do you feel my heartbeat? Feel how steady it is? Focus on that, Stiles. Focus on how I breathe in, breathe out. Focus on that. Nothing else. Just my breathing, my heartbeat.”

She listened closely as he took ragged breaths. Slowly, with each forced breath, Stiles calmed down, his hands shaking less as he sagged into the corner. Cora took the chance to slip in close to him and hold him close.

“I was supposed to go to the doctor,” she said suddenly. Stiles looked up, alarmed. “The day Kate, well, you know. I got to stay home from school so Mom could take me to the doctor. Werewolf doctor, that is. Anyway, Laura and Derek were at school, so they didn’t see it. Mom got to me first, told me she’d heard hunters, to go, run, get away from the house, get to Derek and Laura. I climbed a tree, heard those assholes come up to my house while I hid, and watched as they torched it with my entire pack inside. I could feel their pain, like it was my own, and when I ran to help them, someone had circled the house in mountain ash. I couldn’t save my family, so I had to sit and watch them burn to death.”

“Cora, why,” Stiles started to ask.

She shook her head to keep him quiet.

“When I found my new pack, after a year of wandering and just being lost, I refused to talk for another year. I had terrible nightmares, my family dying in every single one of them, every single one worse than the one before, until I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t sleep. But my pack walked me through it, lightened my load by carrying some of my burden. They made me feel safe, and they listened when I needed to get something off my chest. They mended me when I was broken, Stiles.”

“I still don’t,” he started again.

She shook her head again. He kept quiet.

She never opened up, to anyone. He wasn’t messing this up.

“My pack were the key to my survival, do you understand that? I am alive today because I had friends and family willing to hold my hand and chase away my demons.”

“Are you trying to tell me that I shouldn’t push the pack away because they can be my light in the darkness?” Stiles asked wearily.

She chuckled and pressed her lips to his forehead, and then his temple, and then his cheekbone, the upturn of his nose. His eyes fluttered shut as they curled into one another in the corner of Stiles’ room.

“I’m saying to let _someone_ in, let _someone_ carry the world sometimes.”


End file.
